


Whumptober 2020 30 Wound Reveal

by frankie_mcstein



Series: Whumptober 2020 [30]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Oops, Whumptober 2020, convenient first aid kit, convenient radio, everyone ends up a little whumped, helicopter crash, poor whirlybird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: Whumptober 2020 prompt 30- Wound RevealT.C. had to fight just to stop the helicopter from hitting the ground nose first. In the years to come he would never know why he suddenly lost control. All he could do was shout their coordinates into the radio and pray it was still transmitting.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947172
Comments: 22
Kudos: 47





	Whumptober 2020 30 Wound Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> I feel really bad about this. Poor T.C. needs his chopper and I just to throw it out of the sky.

T.C. had just enough time to yell out as every light on his instrument panel went red; in the years to come, he would never be able to figure out what had actually happened. Flight control vanished, and it was suddenly taking all his strength to stop the chopper from throwing its nose towards the ground. He quickly yelled an SOS into the radio with no idea of whether it was still transmitting, repeating what he thought were their coordinates twice before a savage jerk had the bird twisting in mid-air and his hands burning from trying not to let the cyclic get ripped away from his grip.

Everyone was wearing their harness; that was the one thought that kept circling his mind as the ground came closer and closer. Everyone would be okay if he could just get her set down with some semblance of balance. The harnesses were designed for this. He just needed to keep what little control he still had for as long as he could.

No chance of finding a decent landing site, somewhere they would be seen, somewhere a rescue team could easily get to them. The best he could hope for was somewhere where the canopy wasn't lethally thick and pray that the ground beneath was reasonably clear. 

The impact came at too steep an angle, the nose of the helicopter tearing through the tree limbs, the rotor blades slicing a huge swathe of damage before hitting trunks and shattering. The debris flew far and wide, lethal shards of razor-sharp metal flying in a circle of devastation. The ruined chopper crashed down into the epicenter, smashed beyond repair, the bright aluminum body crumpled and torn. It tipped slowly to one side, creaking and groaning as the single ski bent beneath it. The scream of tortured metal ripped through the still vibrating air as the crippled bird dropped flat to its side.

The echoes died away slowly to be replaced by the chirps and chirrups and chitters of the startled wildlife. It was a long minute before any sign of life came from within the wreck, and, when it did, it was a groan of pain.

Another long silence followed before the groan came again, and this time it was echoed by another sound, a whimper that was quickly cut off.

"'ick?" T.C.'s voice caught in his throat, barely able to form even part of his friend's name. He tried again, this time managing "Ri'..."

"Yeah." Rick didn't sound much better than T.C., but at least he was awake. As much as it hurt, awake was good. 

The lack of noise coming from the back seat was worrying, but neither man could move.

"Tom… Tommy?" Rick nearly coughed over the word but fought down the urge, knowing the pain that would surge up would probably send him reeling back into unconsciousness. "Jules?"

Nothing, and T.C. tried to turn his head to check on the pair that had been in the back. That was when he finally figured out why his shoulders were aching so much; the pilot's side of the chopper was in the air, and he was hanging from the harness. Okay, he and Rick needed to get out of their straps, then they needed to find out what was wrong with Thomas and Higgins, and then all four of them needed to get out of the helicopter.

It took a painful amount of time for Rick to get himself free; the buckle on his harness was cracked, and he'd had to wriggle and curse the thing before it finally opened. Then he had to shift himself and check for anything too serious to ignore before he could even think about trying to help T.C. Finally though, after a heart-stopping second where they thought the chopper was tipping onto its roof, they were both free of the straps. 

There was no real room for them both to stand, they were pressed uncomfortably close to each other, and they were both the worse for wear. T.C. had a cut on his head that was still sending a dribble of blood down to his collar, while Rick's wrist was looking swollen and already starting to bruise. They were both having trouble taking a full breath in, although they both quickly assured the other their problems were probably from bruises caused by the harness. They were both too worried about Magnum and Higgins to give their own injuries more than a passing consideration; there still hadn't been any sort of movement from the back seat.

T.C. turned, bracing himself on the instrument panel, and stretched himself around Rick to peer at the two figures slumped in the seat. Magnum, hanging from his harness, looked like he was trying to wake up, eyes shifting and mouth trying to move. There was blood coating his forehead. T.C. couldn't see the source, but it was bleeding heavily enough to send blood dripping down onto Higgins.

As he looked, trying to figure out if any part of her was trapped by the twisted metal of the door she was leaning against, T.C. saw Higgins' eyes open, roll, and drop closed again. He cursed viciously at the sorry state his friends were in, feeling like, as the pilot, it was his fault. 

"It's gonna take some work to get them out."

They took a second to plan how best to do it, deciding in the end that T.C. would climb out of the pilot side door so he could lift Magnum while Rick pushed from beneath. Then Rick would climb out and they would both lower the unconscious man to the ground before repeating the maneuver with Higgins.

It went about as well as they could have hoped given that they were both injured and were trying to lift the deadweight of a fully grown man who was only a little smaller than either of them. They made an effort to check for injuries to his neck, but, in the end, had to simply hope they weren't making anything worse; in the backs of their minds, they were both wondering how long they had before the worst happened and the helicopter somehow caught fire.

Magnum woke up a little as they heaved him out of the wreck, his eyes squeezing tightly shut and small groans escaping him. They both spoke quietly to him, terrified of what would happen if he tried to fight their grip on him.

"Rick?"

"Got it in one."

Magnum seemed to relax a little despite the pain he was very obviously in. Just knowing it was his friends who had him seemed to be enough for him to decide things weren't as bad as they felt.

"What…?" The question trailed off, words replaced by a quickly bitten-off groan, but it was pretty obvious what he wanted to know.

"The chopper went down," T.C. said a little more tersely than he'd intended. "We all got a bit banged up." He had no intention of saying anything too detailed and was glad when the only response was a slightly fuzzy sounding "hmm." He took full advantage of Magnum slipping back into unconsciousness to haul his legs half out of the door and stand awkwardly with Magnum in a semi-sitting position while Rick scrambled up and out.

After Magnum was safely on the ground, T.C. peered into the chopper to see brown eyes looking back up at him.

“Higgy?”

“Hey,” came the surprisingly clear reply. “Magnum okay?”

“Rick’s checking him over. We didn’t realize you were awake.” He was carefully lowering himself down as he spoke, seeing she was making no move to undo the buckle and not liking the idea of her being trapped.

“You were busy.” She even managed to give a little half-shrug as if telling him it was no big deal. “Are you and Rick both all right then?” And she was giving him a probing look.

“Cuts and bruises. Maybe a few things we’ll need a doctor for eventually.” T.C. was painfully aware of how long Higgins had been conscious, so he added, as casually as he could, “Anything you think we need to know about?” He kept his eyes fixed on the harness, trying not to make it obvious that he was worried; he knew from experience that she was far too stubborn to accept concern.

“My stomach hurts,” she said, and there was pain in her voice she couldn’t quite hide. “I’m not too sure why. I think maybe I hit the door?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Jules,” called Rick from his perch above the door. “I don’t think we went too far off the coordinates T.C. said. Should get rescue teams flooding the area soon.” 

She grinned in response, her eyes fluttering a little at a stab of pain from somewhere as T.C. finally got her uncooperative harness to open. She slumped a little, going pale at the movement, and T.C. slipped his hand up so his fingers could press against her neck. The pulse was too fast, but he’d be willing to bet all four of them had racing hearts at the moment.

“Think you can help us get you up?”

She smiled again, determination written on her face. “I’m sure I can.” She managed to step into the cradle T.C. made of his hands, but reaching up to grab Rick’s hands made her gasp and she nearly fell, catching herself with a death grip on the top of the front seat at the last moment. They gave her a second while she caught her breath, T.C. easily supporting her slight weight even at the odd angle.

“Sorry. Shall we try that again?” And before either of the two men had the chance to suggest they try a different approach, she stretched her arms over her head and wrapped her fingers around Rick’s wrists. 

T.C. lifted as far as he could, sure that it was hurting her more than she was letting on, and was inordinately happy to be as tall as he was. Between that and Rick’s long arms, Higgins was out of the chopper without so much as another gasp. By the time all three of them were on solid ground, Magnum had woken up again.

“Hey, Higgy.” He still sounded dazed but was obviously in possession of a reasonable amount of his faculties. 

“Thomas, you look awful.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact that he laughed without meaning to and winced at the pain that flared.

Higgins dropped to the ground next to him, biting down hard on her bottom lip as she did. Rick and T.C. both noticed, but there was nothing much they could do so they didn’t say anything. As Higgins started trying to figure out where the blood on Magnum’s face was coming from, Rick and T.C. started hunting around the crash site, looking for anything useful like cell phones or the medkit.

T.C. found the medkit, one he had built himself rather than a store-bought one, and crossed back to where Magnum was now resting with head in Higgins' lap. She looked up at his approach, and he noticed how sweat was beading on her face. When she spoke though, her voice sounded steady.

"I found the cut. The skin around it is hardly swollen, and he passed out when I touched it." She glanced down at Magnum, one hand resting on his cheek. "I'm worried the damage is internal."

T.C. felt his stomach sink. Internal damage from a head injury meant swelling inside the skull, maybe even bleeding into the brain. There was no way they could do anything for an injury that serious. He crouched next to Higgins and unzipped the medkit anyway; at least they could clean the head wound and stop an infection from setting in and causing more problems. And he could have a look at Rick's wrist while he was at it.

He turned his head to where Rick was poking at a bush, about to call over to him, when the other man gave a cry of joy and thrust his hand into the leaves. He pulled it back out again holding something that looked a lot like the emergency walkie. T.C. felt a surge of sheer relief; if they had a radio, they could get help.

He left the medical bag with Higgins, trusting she was more than capable of cleaning a cut, even one as big as the one that had opened Magnum's scalp, especially with Magnum himself out cold and unable to protest. He met Rick halfway and reached out for the radio, happily anticipating a search and rescue team broadcast.

Sure enough, as soon as he turned it on, he heard the welcome sound of a male voice calling for the pilot of the helicopter in distress to please make contact. He stayed where he was, responding quickly, and Rick headed over to help Higgins.

"How's it looking?" He didn't wait for her to reply, just knelt and started gently poking around where she was rubbing the alcohol-soaked gauze. He felt his face pulling into a frown at what he found and knew from the look on her face that Higgins had already figured out Magnum needed serious medical help.

"Please tell me T.C. is talking to someone who can find us." She didn't do half as good a job of hiding her concern as she usually did.

"Like I said," and Rick managed to dredge up a smile, "rescue teams'll be flooding in before you know it." He noticed her smile looked a little weak, like she was struggling to focus on what she was doing, but he felt a little fuzzy himself. 

He reached out and grabbed the alcohol and gauze and started helping her clean the blood from Magnum's face as the man himself started shifting. That had the consequence of letting Higgins spot the large cut on Rick's arm. It had been hidden by his shirt sleeve, and she had assumed the blood on his forearm was from moving Magnum. Her eyes widened as she took in the angry red of the skin around the gash, and she reached for the medkit again.

Rick let out a small yelp as she pressed a clean piece of gauze to the still bleeding cut just as Magnum's eyes opened.

"Very manly." 

Rick glared at his friend while Higgins gave a quiet snort of amusement. Magnum was unaffected by Rick's angry face, so he let it drop and went back to trying to get Magnum's skin back to its usual tan instead of its current ghastly red. He made the wise decision not to pull his injured arm away from Higgins who, as he twitched the relevant muscles, went from looking slightly dazed to daring him to move with only her eyebrows.

T.C. joined them just as they were both admitting they had done all they could, as Magnum was starting to drift off again despite his best efforts not to, and the grin on his face told them all that they needed to know.

The rescue team was on its way, and they'd be at the nearest hospital before nightfall. 

**Author's Note:**

> There is actually more to this story, I just ran out of all time. So, eventually, I will hopefully be adding a second chapter.


End file.
